#questions nettes

[ambrosykim]

i passed my probation!!!!

[piracytheorist]

I feel the need to impart upon you the knowledge of a counting-out rhyme song (like eeny meeny miny moe) from the specific part of Greece I grew up in, translating pretty much to:

"*gibberish* bam, and ZWAN ham, and Tarzan's ass smells like shampoo."

[thebestsetter]

The emperor's bad luck

An: This is actually my first fic! Also, english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes! I just read Kaiser's backstory and got really sad. HE'S JUST A BABY 😭😭

Michael Kaiser has never been a lucky guy. And I'm not talking about that kind of luck of finding a penny on the floor or getting a question right even though you don't know the answer. I'm talking about a luck that is harder to be found nowadays: the luck to be born with a great family, with loving parents and awesome siblings. The kind of family that you see on magazine covers or billboards, smiling and having fun together, looking like they've never had a bad time.

His mother left him when he was just a baby. A Hollywood actress who has probably already acted as a mother in a movie, although not in real life with her own son: ironic, isn't it? She looked like an angel, with pretty blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, but her looks didn't reflect her personality: a cunning and clever woman.

So, she came up with a plan to make her fame grow: she laid down with a movie director. After she became more famous, she left the man all alone. Well, maybe not ALL alone. She left him with their son: Michael Kaiser. But the man didn't appreciate it and often abused Kaiser. For every mistake Michael made, he hit and tortured the poor boy. When Kaiser was barely 8, his father started sending him to the streets to steal food and other things, since the man couldn't really work because he began drinking (he also didn't want to work, and sending his kid to steal things was a lot easier).

- Now go, Kaiser! - the man said while waving a broken beer bottle in the air - and don't come back without that milk you forgot last time, or else I won't be as gentle with your punishment.

Michael grabbed the backpack his father handed him and ran out of his "home", not wanting to spend another second with that man.

"They found out I stole from that shop" Kaiser thought while looking at the shop he stole from the last time he went on his 'robbery spree' "so I have to find another one".

He then began walking across the neighbourhood trying to find somewhere to steal from. The blond boy came across a new shop he had never seen before: it was a small shop with red colored walls. The german child decided that was the one he was going to rob. Passing his small hands through the shelves full of things he couldn't even think of buying, Kaiser shoved the important things down his bag, such as eggs, butter and other things. He then came across the dairy session. Reaching for the milk, Michael quickly grabbed it and hid it into his bag, wanting to get out of there before he got caught, when suddenly he heard a gasp coming from behind him.

- Are you stealing milk? - a (h/c)nette girl said, startling Kaiser and causing him to drop the bag from his hands, making all the items of his backpack spread across the floor. Scared, he began to pick his things and stuff them back on the bag - hey, what are you doing? COME BACK HERE!

The girl began to chase him around the store while begging him to stop running. After some time, she finally caught up with him.

- I-I'm sorry - he said, panting - p-please don't turn me in! I need to steal to s-survive. My father doesn't work and my mother left me with him. I'm sorry, but I need this things!

- Don't worry, I won't report you! - she said, smiling - my father is the owner of the shop. I can give you some cookies and snacks to go and won't turn you in, but with one condition: you need to answer the question I wanted to ask you when I saw you stealing the milk.

- O-okay - he said in a calmer tone - what is it?

- Do you wanna be my friend? - she asked, her toothy grin appearing and almost blinding Kaiser because of how big and bright it was

- W-what? - he asked, making the girl repeat herself - sure, I guess…

- GREAT! You're my friend now! Come on, I'm gonna give you something to eat.

The girl gave Michael some snacks (without her father seeing them, of course) from that shelves that had things he thought he'd never get to eat and went to the door of the store to say goodbye to him.

- Bye hm… - she began, then gasped - You're my friend, but I don't know your name!

- I'm Michael Kaiser - he said, clearly a lot more confident around the girl, but still a little weary

- I'm (Name) (Last name) - she smiled, glad that she made a new friend - bye, Michael! Come here tomorrow again so we can play!

- (NAME)! COME HELP ME OUT IN THE SHOP! - they heard her father yell

- COMING - the girl shouted and waved goodbye to Kaiser for the last time before disappearing inside her family's shop.

Althought Kaiser was a guy that didn't have a great luck, he considered himself lucky for finding her: his first friend ever since he was born. And for the first time in a few years, Kaiser went to sleep with a full stomach and a happy mind, with a new found hope in his soul: a hope for a better future, with friends like (Name) (or maybe even her, if his luck suddenly decided to change) at his side.

[amphibious-thing]

Pink is for Boys

"Pink or Blue? Which is intended for boys and which for girls? This question comes from one of our readers this month, and the discussion may be of interest to others. There has been a great diversity of opinion on this subject, but the generally accepted rule is pink for the boy and blue for the girl. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl." ~ The Infants' Department, June 1918

[Left: The Blue Boy, oil on canvas, c. 1770, by Thomas Gainsborough.

Right: The Pink Boy, oil on canvas, c. 1782, by Thomas Gainsborough.]

Pink is for girls and blue is for boys. But it hasn't always been this way. Colour coding infants as a way of denoting gender was popular in 20th century America. The problem? Pink and blue? Which is for boys and which is for girls?

In 1927 TIME Magazine asked ten of the "leading stores that sell baby equipment" which colour was for which gender. Four stores responded pink for girls and blue for boys; Macy's (Manhattan), Franklin Simon (Manhattan), Wanamaker's (Philadelphia) and Bullock's (Los Angeles). Five stores responded pink for boys and blue for girls; Best's (Manhattan), Marshall Field's (Chicago), Filene's (Boston), Maison Blanche (New Orleans) and The White House (San Francisco). Curiously Halle's (Cleveland) responded that pink was for both boys and girls.

This debate would continue and it wasn't until mid-20th century that pink for girls and blue for boys became firmly cemented in western culture.

However the idea of colour coding infants dates back to the 19th century. According to La cour de Hollande sous le règne de Louis Bonaparte in 1808 in Holland pink was used to announce the birth of a girl and blue a boy. In March 1856 Peterson's Magazine (Philadelphia, USA) advises that the ribbon on a christening cap should be blue for a boy and pink for a girl. On the 23rd of July 1893 the New York Times writes that for baby clothes it's "pink for a boy and blue for a girl!"

[The Oddie Children, oil on canvas, c. 1789, by William Beechey, via North Carolina Museum of Art.]

During the latter half of the 18th century one of the most popular outfits for young children, regardless of gender, was a white dress with a coloured sash tied around the waist. Pink and blue being the most popular colours, although other colours were worn as well. It would be tempting to assume that the colour of the sash indicated gender but there isn't clear evidence that this was the case. The Oddie Children (above) depicts Sarah, Henry, Catherine, and Jane Oddie. The three girls are all wearing white dresses; two with a blue sash one with a pink sash. We also see Henry Russell (bellow left) wearing a blue sash and Prince William (bellow right) wearing a pink sash.

[Left: Anne Barbara Russell née Whitworth with her son Sir Henry Russell, oil on canvas, c. 1786, by George Romney, via Woolley & Wallis.

Right: Prince William, oil on canvas, c. 1767, by Allan Ramsay, via the Royal Collection Trust.]

Pink was just one of the many colours popular in 18th century English womenswear and seems to have stayed popular throughout the century. On the 3rd of January 1712 The Spectator published an article in which a man recalls seeing "a little Cluster of Women sitting together in the prettiest coloured Hoods that I ever saw. One of them was Blew, another Yellow, and another Philomot; the fourth was of a Pink Colour, and the fifth of a pale Green". On the 1st of May 1736 the Read's Weekly Journal, or British Gazetteer reports that the ladies attending the royal wedding wore gowns of "Gold stuffs, or rich Silks with Gold or Silver Flowers, or Pink or White Silks, with either Gold or Silver Netts or Trimmings;" shoes either "Pink, White or Green Silk, with Gold or Silver Lace and braid all over." On the 24th of May 1785 Charles Storer writes to Abigail Adams advising that fashionable colours in English court dress are "pink, lilac, and blue" such "as is worn at Versailles".

[Left: Frances, Daughter of Evelyn Pierpont, 1st Duke of Kingston, oil on canvas, c. 1700-23, by Godfrey Kneller, via Art UK.

Middle: Mrs. Abington as Miss Prue in "Love for Love" by William Congreve, oil on canvas, c. 1771, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, via Yale Center for British Art.

Right: Mary Little, later Lady Carr, oil on canvas, c. 1765, by Thomas Gainsborough, via Yale Center for British Art.]

In particular pink was popular amongst young women as the colour was associated with youth. Older women who wore pink were mocked as vain for dressing in a way that was seen as improper for their age. On the 31st of January 1754 Lady Jane Coke writes to Mrs. Eyre criticising old women who wear pink:

As for fashions in dress, which you sometimes inquire after, they are too various to describe. One thing is new, which is, there is not such a thing as a decent old woman left, everybody curls their hair, shews their neck, and wears pink, but your humble servant. People who have covered their heads for forty years now leave off their caps and think it becomes them, in short we try to out-do our patterns, the French, in every ridiculous vanity.

[Folly Embellishing Old Age With the Adornments of Youth, oil on canvas, c. 1743, by Charles-Antoine Coypel, via Master Art.]

For Englishmen acceptable clothing way much more limited. In A Foreign View of England in the Reigns of George I & George II Monsieur César de Saussure writes that Englishmen "do not trouble themselves about dress, but leave that to their womenfolk". He explains:

Englishmen are usually very plainly dressed, they scarcely ever wear gold on their clothes; they wear little coats called "frocks," without facings and without pleats, with a short cape above. Almost all wear small, round wigs, plain hats, and carry canes in their hands, but no swords. Their cloth and linen are of the best and finest. You will see rich merchants and gentlemen thus dressed, and sometimes even noblemen of high rank, especially in the morning, walking through the filthy and muddy streets.

César de Saussure warns that "a well-dressed person in the streets, especially if he is wearing a braided coat, a plume in his hat, or his hair tied in a bow, he will, without doubt, be called "French dog" twenty times perhaps before he reaches his destination" and is not only at risk of "being jeered at" but also "being bespattered with mud, but as likely as not dead dogs and cats will be thrown at him."

[Reverend Charles Everard Booth, Captain Griffith Booth, and an Unidentified Man playing Billiards, oil on canvas, c. 1775-9, by John Hamilton Mortimer, via the Royal Collection Trust.]

For Englishmen dressing "plainly" mostly meant wearing blacks and browns. In his book on macaroni, Pretty Gentleman, Peter McNeil found that in contrast most English menswear that he describes as generally consisting of "monochrome broadcloth" macaroni wore a variety of colours including green, orange, yellow, violet, red, white, blue, gold, silver and of course pink.

But it's not just the macaroni of the 1770s & 1780s that wore pink. We see pink in descriptions of feminine men's dress (both real and fictional) throughout the 18th century.

On the 2nd of June 1722 Sarah Osborn writes to Robert Byng:

I believe the gentlemen will wear petticoats very soon, for many of their coats were like our mantuas. Lord Essex had a silver tissue coat, and pink color lutestring waistcoat, and several had pink color and pale blue paduasoy coats, which looked prodigiously effeminate.

On the 18th of October 1729 the Universal Spectator and Weekly Journal published a story where an "effeminate" man's clothes were described as follows:

He had a flower'd pink-colour Silk Coat, with a Green-Sattin Waistcoat lac'd with Silver. Velvet Breeches, Clock'd Stockings the Colour of his Coat, Red-heel'd Pumps, a Blue Ribbon at the Collar of his Shirt, and his Sword-Hilt he embrac'd under the Elbow of his Left Arm,

[Sir Miles Stapylton, 4th Bt of Myton, oil on canvas, c. 1730-35, via Art UK.]

In The Adventures of Roderick Random (1748) the effeminate (and queer coded) Captain Whiffle is described as follows:

our new commander came on board in a ten-oared barge, overshadowed with a vast umbrella, and appeared in everything the reverse of Oakum, being a tall, thin young man, dressed in this manner: a white hat, garnished with a red feather, adorned his head, from whence his hair flowed upon his shoulders, in ringlets tied behind with a ribbon. His coat, consisting of pink-coloured silk, lined with white, by the elegance of the cut retired backward, as it were, to discover a white satin waistcoat embroidered with gold, unbuttoned at the upper part to display a brooch set with garnets, that glittered in the breast of his shirt, which was of the finest cambric, edged with right Mechlin: the knees of his crimson velvet breeches scarce descended so low as to meet his silk stockings, which rose without spot or wrinkle on his meagre legs, from shoes of blue Meroquin, studded with diamond buckles that flamed forth rivals to the sun! A steel-hilted sword, inlaid with gold, and decked with a knot of ribbon which fell down in a rich tassel, equipped his side; and an amber-headed cane hung dangling from his wrist. But the most remarkable parts of his furniture were, a mask on his face, and white gloves on his hands, which did not seem to be put on with an intention to be pulled off occasionally, but were fixed with a curious ring on the little finger of each hand.

[Henry Ingram, 7th Viscount Irwin and His Wife Anne, oil on canvas, c. 1745, by Philippe Mercier, via Art UK.]

On the 28th of July 1780 the London Courant reports:

A few days ago, a Macaroni made his appearance in the Assembly-room at Whitehaven, in the Following dress: a mixed silk coat, pink sattin waistcoat and breeches, covered with an elegant silver nett, white silk stockings with pink clocks, pink sattin shoes and large pearl buckles, a mushroom coloured stock, covered with a fine point lace; his hair dressed remarkably high, and stuck full of pearl pins.

On the 6th of August 1792 The Weekly Entertainer published Sketches and Portraits form the Life by Simon Tueopnrastus which included the following description:

Mercator was a youth of some genius and expectation, but by a strange perverseness of disposition, notwithstanding the extreme natural stiffness of his limbs, he had acquired an early attachment to the most finical and effeminate finery; so that, while yet a boy, he would exhaust every expedient of a fertile invention to procure a laced waistcoat, or the most foppish toy; would dangle a watch-string, with brass seals, from each fob, at a time when the frugal care of his parents would not permit him to wear a watch in either; and would strut in a fine pair of second-hand pink silk breeches, and a light blue coat, with all the formal dignity of—a soldier upon the parade.

[Left: Thomas King in "The Clandestine Marriage", oil on canvas, c. 1792, by Samuel De Wilde, via Yale Center for British Art.

Right: Edward Payne, oil on canvas, by Arthur Devis, via Art UK.]

While pink is mentioned in these descriptions of feminine men's dress it's not singled out as the girl colour the way pink would become in the 20th century. I would argue pink is seen as effeminate not because pink is a uniquely feminine colour but because it was used in fashionable dress. In 18th century England being interested in fashion was seen as an frivolous female trait. Men who showed too much interest in fashion were mocked and ridiculed for their gender nonconformity. "A Man must sink below the Dignity of his Nature, before he can suffer his Thoughts to be taken up on so trivial an Affair, as the Chosing, Suiting, and Adjusting the Adornments of his Person," complains a letter published on the 8th of May 1731 in Read's Weekly Journal, or British Gazetteer:

Decency of Garb ought inviolably to be preserved; nor can there be possibly an Excuse for Dressing like a Merry-Andrew: Rich and coloured Silks are in themselves effeminate, and unbecoming a Man; as are, in short, all Things that discover Dress to have been his Study 'Tis in vain for a Fop of Quality, to think his Title will protect him.

[Left: Madame de Pompadour (detail), oil on canvas, c. 1756, by François Boucher, via Alte Pinakothek.

Right: Elizabeth Wrottesley, later Duchess of Grafton, oil on canvas, c. 1764-5, by Thomas Gainsborough, via National Gallery of Victoria.]

English fashion was highly influenced by French fashion. A popular colour scheme in French fashion was green and pink. A famous example of this colour pairing can be seen in François Boucher's portrait of Madame de Pompadour (above left), she is depicted in a green gown with pink bows and flowers. You can see and example of how this style inspired English fashion in Thomas Gainsborough's portrait of Elizabeth Wrottesley (above right), who is depicted in a green gown with a floral pattern adorned with pink, white and green striped bows.

[Left: Sir Harry Fetherstonhaugh, oil on canvas, c. 1776, by Pompeo Batoni, via Wikimedia.

Right: Francis Lind, oil on canvas, c. 1775, by George Romney, via Mackinnon Fine Art.]

Fashionable Englishmen were also inspired by these French designs. Horace Walpole refers to the popularity of the colour combination writing to Lady Ossory on the 19th of February 1774 "If I went to Almack's and decked out my wrinkles in pink and green like Lord Harrington, I might still be in vogue". Almack's is referring to Almack's Assembly Rooms on Pall Mall which is believed to be the inspiration for the Macaroni Club. (see Pretty Gentleman by Petter McNeil p52-55) In a letter to Lord Harcourt on the 27th of July 1773 Walpole writes of "Macaronis lolling out of windows at Almack's like carpets to be dusted."

[Left: Detail of Stephen Fox from The Hervey Conversation Piece, oil on canvas, c. 1738-40, by William Hogarth, via Fairfax House.

Middle: Sir William Jones, oil on canvas, c. 1769, by Francis Cotes, via Art UK.

Right: Portrait of a Gentleman, oil on canvas, by George Romney.]

Men who wore green seem to have been just as much, if not more, at risk of being ridiculed, or even assaulted, for the colour of their clothes as those who wore pink. In Pierre Jean Grosley's A Tour to London (originally published 1772) he recalls traveling with a young English surgeon who was harassed by Londoners due to his green French frock coat:

At the first visit which he paid me in London, he informed me, that, a few days after his arrival, happening to take a walk thro' the fields on the Surry side of the Thames, dressed in a little green frock, which he had brought from Paris, he was attacked by three of those gentlemen of the mobility, who, taking him for a Frenchman, not only abused him with the foulest language, but gave him two or three slaps on the face: "Luckily, added he in French, I did not return their ill language; for, if I had, they would certainly have thrown me into the Thames, as they assured me they would, as soon as they perceived I was an Englishman, if I ever happened to come in their way again, in my Paris dress."

[jellyfishoreo1206]

WE ARE NOT SEEING ENOUGH OF MIRAGE GUYS

So I'm taking matters into my own goddamn hands-

Meeting Mirage ;)

Either Noah or Mirage might be a little OOC, but I'm giving it a shot

Takes place after the movie, with fem pronouns

Enjoy!

-------

Dude, where the hell are you?

Y/N was currently sent a page to Noah, her best friend of 3 years. He was suppose to pick her up from work, as her car broke down and is still getting fixed at the mechanics, but it was well over 20 minutes and he still hasn't showed. He was suppose to be there at 7:30, and now it's almost dark.

I'kl be there in 10 minutes! Domething just csme uo

Several typos, whatever the hell is happening over there is really making him either rush or panic... actually those are both kind of in the same sense.

Letting out a sigh through her nose, Y/N quickly typed out a response.

Yeah, yeah. Better keep to your promise, Sonic.

Not even letting him respond, the H/C-nette shoved the device into her coat pocket. Sure it may be the beginning of the summer, but she get cold easily.

And I mean very easily.

"Man, I really need a hot shower right now."

10 minutes breezed by quickly, seemingly in a blink of an eye. About to page Noah again, Y/N stopped in her tracks when a honk sounded in front of her.

Looking up, her eyes widen in complete surprise at the image in front of them. Her best friend, Noah Diaz, in a fucking Porsche. Well, it looked like it seen better days, but still.

"Yo, you gonna get in or are you just gonna stand there looking so surprised?" Noah shouted from inside the car, a smug look on his face.

Snapping out of it, Y/N got inside the car, buckling in her seatbelt.

Once the seatbelt clicked, Noah started the car onto the route back to Y/N's apartment complex. 5 minutes in and the two are making small talk and all that before Y/N asked him a question.

"So, what happened?"

"Hm?"

"To the Porsche. Looks like Frankenstein's monster."

Noah let's out a small chuckle at the comment, "Oh uh, some guy sold it to me for a good price. Because it was all banged up and stuff. Couldn't even start."

"When did you get it?"

"Got it 2 months ago, still has some kinks that need to be fixed. But we've made some progress." He patted the dashboard in a comforting way, a somber smile on his face.

"2 months ago? Weren't you in Perú during that time? Also is Reeks helping you fix the car?"

"Yeah. I think I made a pretty good decision going there..also Reeks is just helping me get the parts, I'm mainly doing the fixing."

"Mm, pretty good job so far. I could help with the paint job? The blue and silver seems to be fading out, but I think it a fresh coat will make it look gorgeous."

After she finished that comment, the car felt like it heated up a little. Not too much to notice, but just enough.

"By the way, what did you do in Perú again?"

"Oh, to study for a job I was doing..got to see some of the landscapes and all that..and nearly died-"

"What was that?"

"Wha-nothing! Don't worry about it at all."

A silence fell between you too, an awkward silence to be exact. He's a little more fidgety than usual.. probably from exhaustion. It's something he does whenever he's very tired. Man, he must be more exhausted than usual.

"Sorry I called you so late, like right after your new job and stuff. It must be tiring."

"Nah I don't mind, you're my best friend after all. Just returning the favor when you babysat Kris last minute." Now Y/N absolutely loves Noah's family. First time she met them, it felt like a bond just, instantly clicked within. So from that day on, she makes a little time out of her day just to visit the Diaz family, especially Kris. He was so sweet, and like the little brother she never had. So whenever Noah or his mom were busy, she babysits him, and brings some food so they can enjoy together.

"I don't mind babysitting Kris at all. He's like a little brother to me anyway."

"Yeah, that's Kris. Best little brother I could ever ask for." A soft smile comes to his face, maybe he should bring some food from that burger joint his family likes, before he goes home so his mom doesn't have to cook tonight.

"Yeah..Hey do you mind if I put in my playlist?"

"Go for it."

Grabbing a mixtape from her pocket, she inserts it into the slot right above the radio, turning the knob to hear what was currently playing.

The familiar rhythm of Virgen by Adolescent's Orquesta brings a smile to your face, increasing the volume as one of her favorite songs plays through the car. Every so often, she would sing along to the lyrics, taping her fingers against the door.

What Y/N didn't know, was a certain Autobot mech was observing her in the passenger seat mirror, noticing the small things about her that seemed to have caught even more of his interest. The moment she got in the car, Mirage had to admit, she was PRETTY. And the compliments she said? Wooo that was feeding his ego.

And she was drop-dead gorgeous, in his optics, he doesn't even know her one bit and he's on his knees just from the sound of her voice. Oh her voice, don't even get him started on her voice. Most purest thing he has ever heard since he had stepped foot on Earth. Got her filling his tanks with a fluttery feeling, or as Noah sometimes likes to refer to, butterflies. What a weird thing to say. (Ngl, I head cannon Mirage to fall in love FAST)

After those few thoughts, the mech started observing her other features. Her eyes, hair, lips, cheeks, hands, even the smallest of moles/freckles that were dotted across her face. Oh and when her smile plastered her face, Mirage felt his spark beat faster.

She was a beauty, a beauty in her own category..

Sadly he wasn't able to admire her much longer, as they stopped in front of her apartment, the sky now completely dark. About to open the car door, the lock clicks, preventing Y/N from getting out. Thinking nothing of it, Y/N goes to unlock it, but it keeps repeatedly locking itself. With a huff, Y/N turns to Noah.

"Dude can you stop that shit?"

"It's not me I swear! Li-like I said, Mir-! The car was all banged up when I got it, still got a few bugs in it.." And as subtly as possible, kept kicking right above the pedals. Not to harshly, but to get the message across to stop messing around.

Finally after what seemed to be forever, the car doors unlocked, with Y/N getting out of the car, making sure to grab her tape. Running a hand over the hood, not noticing the shudder of metal, Y/N waves goodbye to Noah before entering her building, already getting excited for her hot shower.

When Y/N was out of sight and earshot, Noah turned to the radio, somewhat pissed.

"Mirage, what the hell was that??"

"Whaaaat? I did nothing wrong. Also, ouch. Do you have to kick me that hard? I'm still recovering y'know." You could hear the teasing smile on his face, pulling the recovery card whenever.

"Mirage you can't do that."

"Why not? Not like she noticed anything."

"You just can't!"

"Aww but I wanna keep admiring la angel bonita un momento más."

"..what."

"I wanna keep ad-"

"I know what you said, but, seriously?"

"You gotta introduce me to her one day, Sonic."

"Mirage she's going to freak out!"

"Mm but what are the chances she won't? Pleaseeee? I won't stop bothering you unless you say yesss~" He coos in a sing-song voice.

"Nu uh, ain't happening. Just because you're acting like a kid doesn't mean you're getting it."

"Fine. But whenever you give her ride home, I'll just keep locking the doors."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Noah leaned back into the recliner, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration. Whenever Mirage says he'll do something, he will follow through. He's ambitious like that. So either; Stay with the no but have Mirage be a brat for who knows how long, or, just get it over with.

"Sooo..Is that a yes?"

He was quiet for a bit, before letting out a sigh,"Fine, fine! Yes, it's a yes."

"Hell yeah, baby! Oh I already have so many places to meet up for dates-"

"DUDE."

------

So that concludes my first post! I like how this (somewhat) turned out, but it's a first. I've made some edits to this and the second part will be out soon, so I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting!

Part 2 here!

[bigfatbreak]

i just read through ur whole feral nette tag and it is sooooooooo good i have been spinning it in my brain and debating if i have enough time to read the whole thing again! it's so good!!! also question is the bloody swarm identity only in the many marineete one or also the feral nette one? also!!! your art is just so good!! and so interesting!!

bloody swarm is going to be a ladybug alter-ego that Feralnette will use later in the FeralnetteAU later on! it'll be some chapters away, but i work at a snail's pace so there's no reason NOT to play with her rn

its essentially the identity she uses when she needs the Lucky Cure, but also needs to be more ruthless. She has to protect "Ladybug"'s reputation of being more justice-leaning, but Marinette herself is stretched thin by retiring ALL the temp holders, so a firmer hand is needed in emergencies.

[70sscifiart]

I got a very nice review of my art book from author Andrew Nette on his blog!

"In many respects, Rowe’s book picks up from where Dangerous Visions and New Worlds: Radical Science Fiction, 1950-1985, the 2021 book I co-edited with my friend Iain McIntyre, left off. While our book featured a wealth of book covers over the period in question, we did not go into detail about the art of the artists. Rowe takes this aspect and really elevates it to the next level. His knowledge of the area is first class, he examines the artists and reproduces an absolute treasure trove of science fiction illustration from magazines, books and comics, ordering much of the visual material along thematic lines with an explanation of the artistic, genre and social forces that made shaped the tropes concerned.

This means that the book includes a section on what is without doubt my favourite current of 1970s science fiction art, skeletons in space suits. But there are so many others: images reflected in space helmets, cats in space, underwater science fiction, canals on Mars, etc. Quite simply, if you get it, you get it and, if you get it, then you need to buy this book.

I have no doubt that Worlds Beyond Time: Sci-Fi Art of the 1970s will in the not too distant future be one of those publications that become a rare collector’s item fetching a fortune online, and people will kick themselves for not getting it when they had the chance. Don’t be one of those people, pick up your copy."

[l3vi-bby]

OK SO

M! Reader with Beel but reader is a chef/baker. Beel only learns about Readers talent when he eats one of their meals and finally feels full for the first time probably ever. Beel questions reader about the contents of the food and reader is like “idfk, made with love?” Because of this, Beel forces Reader to make him food as much as possible.

Small little thing I was thinking about, thought it might be cute.

𝙇3𝙑𝙄-𝘽𝘽𝙔 ;; ᵒⁿ ᵗᵘᵐᵇˡʳ ░ : ｡.｡

warnings / sum // he's full of your love and still wanting more. || beelzebub (obey me! one master), male reader, fluff

a / n // tysm for giving me my first ever request on here + i love beel sm so i was so excited to start writing this!!! [B. NAME] = bakery name (usually would mean "brother" but in this fic no)

# full of your love // beelzebub x m!reader ≟ ˚◦

: ｡.｡ ░ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵘᵐᵇˡʳ ;; 𝙇𝙀𝙑𝙄-𝘽𝘽𝙔

𝙄𝙏 — was known all across the Devildom that [F. NAME]'s baking was the best and not only that, but the [B. NAME] was also great, even Barbatos and Luke would agree so, their own pastries maybe put to shame. The bakery smelt of fresh sweets, toasted bread, and the clear aroma of caffeine. Everything in the building screamed a homey feeling, it brought a warm welcome to any person, demon, or angel walking in. A heaven in hell.

It was unsurprising that Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony, quickly found out about the place, and became a frequent patron. Not only that, he was the generally the sweetest and most supportive, having the money to buy all of the bakeries pastries if he wanted to. It was currently a normal day, it had begun to snow in the Devildom and demons all around looked for refuge in any open stores. Beelzebub sat down at a table, scarfing down the food given to him by [F. NAME]. The demon looked up at [F. NAME] as he munched, "your baking is always the best, [F. NAME]... mmm..." The [H. COLOR]-nette could only chuckle, placing more food before the other, "so I've heard, Beel." They continued to bask in each other's warm company, [F. NAME] soon pulling in a chair and propping his elbows up to admire his favorite customer. Beel gulped down the remains of the food with a good jug of coffee and sighed in content. He patted his stomach and realized an odd feeling. "... I feel so full, [F. NAME]." "I'd be surprised if you didn't, you've ate more than you regularly do." Beel shook his head, "no, you don't understand. I never get full." The ginger tightened his brows at the other, seeing as how the baker was not staring back quizzically. "That's interesting...?" [F. NAME] said, confusion in his tone. They stayed staring at each other for a minute or two, an awkward atmosphere still growing. [F. NAME] opted the conversation was done and stood up, grabbing a nearby platter and stacking the empty dishes, Beelzebub could only watch, a curious wilderment still evident. He suddenly snapped out of it, stopping the baker. "What do you put in your food?" Caught off guard, [F. NAME] opened his mouth to close it again. Shouldn't it be obvious...? Flour... sugar... salt — y'know, what else is one supposed to put in a pastry? "What else?" [F. NAME] softly smiled, "it's pastries." Beelzebub shook his head, not satisfied and repeated his question. [F. NAME], a platter still in hand, took his other and placed it on his chin in ponder. "Hmmm... love, I guess?" The silence came back at Beelzebub widened his eyes. [F. NAME] chuckled again, the melody of his voice filling the bakery as he went back to tidy up. Beel felt a feeling deep inside him, butterflies swirling inside his chest. The deepest red took over the avatar's face as he slowly raised his hand, grabbing [F. NAME]'s wrist. Both became surprised at the upcoming words. "Please, make me as much food as you can!" "U — uh? I'm sorry?" Beel stood up, his face now mere inches away from the other, "more! I need more!" [F. NAME] smiled, trying to stifle his laughter but soon blowing up. "Sure! Sure — haha, just — just sit down Beel, and I'll cook you all the food you want!"

𝙇3𝙑𝙄-𝘽𝘽𝙔 ;; ᵒⁿ ᵗᵘᵐᵇˡʳ ░ : ｡.｡ impo . // masterlist || req info / post

[7s3ven]

jealous girl. cato hadley

( master list )

Cato Hadley x Female! District Two! Reader

This one shot is for a book I’m writing but enjoy this. Link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/336569852?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=riddlesbleachdrinker&wp_originator=lNYFXKoKSwZS%2FwkVU%2FVInkUksEX5fvHuroL2fOpLQzYw324EJ7uS7vH9NrK7EKz%2FtWuSTO96oj3SPi%2F%2F4Z9sCfk8um5LCzNHP2dloSxR2TYkqun4bDC2EUvFGW59AGeP (JEEZ THATS A BIG LINK, WTF)

“Cause I’m a jealous, jealous, jealous girl. If I can't have you, baby. If I can't have you, baby.” 

“Let the 74th Hunger Games commence. May the odds be ever in your favor.” 

The moment the countdown reached zero, Y/N jumped off her pedestal. She was racing towards the supplies before the other tributes even had time to process what was happening. 

The H/C-haired girl grabbed the first weapon she saw, which was a sword. Cato wouldn’t be happy about that. Y/N slashed at the other tributes, not caring who she hit as long as blood splattered across the fresh grass.

“You took my sword.” Cato muttered as he stabbed a young boy with a curved knife. Y/N only hummed and shrugged. 

“The District Twelve girl is getting away!” Glimmer shouted over the screams of terror coming from the tributes. 

“I got her!” Y/N replied, throwing the sword at Cato’s feet and picking up an axe as she sprinted after Katniss. “Well, if it isn’t the girl on fire.” Y/N sneered as she grabbed the raventte’s braid, pulling her back. “You escaped from Glimmer’s arrows but you can’t escape me.” Y/N choked Katniss with the handle of her axe, listening to the way she gagged. Katniss scratched at Y/N’s arms, picking off bits of flesh until she realized that would do no good. 

With a choked gasp, Katniss harshly head butted Y/N. The H/C-haired girl yelled out in pain as thick, red liquid dripped down her face. 

“My nose! You little shit! You hurt my face! You’ve ruined it!” Y/N punched Katniss, screaming over and over again. She was like a vicious beast sinking its teeth into its prey. 

Y/N slashed Katniss’ shoulder with her weapon, knocking her to the ground. The H/C-nette attempted to stab Katniss’ throat but she rolled to the side, getting a mouthful of dirt in return. Katniss kicked Y/N’s ankles, causing the latter to topple over. 

Suddenly, Katniss was on top of her with a dagger pressing into Y/N’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Cato was quick to react. He grabbed Katniss’ shirt, heaving the black-haired girl off Y/N.

Katniss quickly scrambled up, sprinting away. Cato was too focused on Y/N to care. 

“I thought you had it under control.” Cato grumbled as the pair walked back towards Glimmer and Marvel. The bloodbath was over, allowing the tributes to rest before the Careers picked them off one by one.

“I did until she tried to slit my damn throat.” Y/N lifted a hand to feel the small, slightly wincing. 

“How much supplies did we get?” Cato questioned. There was a large array of bags on the bloody grass, and one of them was bound to contain medical supplies. 

“We only got a few bags of food. Marvel and I can go find some more.” Glimmer offered. By ‘finding some more’ she meant stealing from other tributes. 

“We’ll guard the supplies then.” Cato uttered, “Don’t take too long.” The blond began to rummage through the bags, searching for anything he could use on Y/N’s injuries and her bloody nose.

“This isn’t needed, you know. My throat will be fine.” Y/N mumbled as Cato forced her to tilt her head back as he cleaned her wound. 

“Say that when it gets infected.” Cato fired back. Y/N lightly scoffed, the corners of her lips twitching into a small smile.

__

“Are you seeing this, Cladius?” Caesar grinned at his broadcasting partner. “It seems the District Two tributes have finally began showing affection to each other, starting with Cato saving Y/N.”

“Yes, yes. We all saw the lingering stares between the two during the tribute parade. However, we have two couples in the games now: Peeta and Katniss from District Twelve, and Cato and Y/N from District Two. How will that turn out?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

__  Y/N bit into a piece of bread, finally silencing her rumbling stomach. Cato was quick to snatch the food out of her hand, shoving it into her mouth. 

“Dude, seriously?” Y/N scowled, slapping his shoulder. Cato only laughed. “I was still eating that, you nitwit.” 

Night was beginning to fall, which only meant one thing for the Careers: hunting time. Peeta was with them too. Only so they could find Katniss, though.

“Fire alert.” Y/N muttered, pointing over at a dim light slightly concealed by the forest. Truly a stupid move. 

“Come on, let’s go.” Cato said.

With their backpacks fully stuffed and weapons in hand, the Careers went bounding into the forest in search of new targets. They followed the fire and found a girl warming her hands by it. She looked up, noticing the sadistic smirks on the Careers’ faces.

There was a loud scream and then a canon, signifying her death.

“Did you hear her shouting? Oh, please don’t kill me!” Glimmer loudly laughed as she imitated the girl’s plead. Cato chuckled, nudging her.

“Hey, that was a good impression.” He said, grinning from ear to ear.

Y/N, who was at the front of the pack, turned around. She saw Cato and Glimmer lagging behind, stuck in their own world. Y/N heaved a frustrated sigh.

She felt like her gut was being twisted. She clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the feeling. As Glimmer giggled again, Y/N’s grip on her axe tightened.

“Tribute, two o’clock!” Marvel announced, pointing at a boy who was sprinting through the greenery. He was making an awful lot of noise, which was the thing that led the Careers to him in the first place.

“I call dibs!” Y/N exclaimed, running after him. She threw her axe, hitting him square in the chest. It wasn’t long before another canon went off. Y/N ransacked his bag, grabbing everything she could and shoving them into her pockets and bag.

“Let’s set up camp.” Marvel uttered. It would do them no good if they were too tired to kill tomorrow. Cato, Marvel, and Glimmer lay on the ground while Y/N skilfully climbed up a tree. She liked climbing things. And turns out, it was a skill many Careers lacked.

Y/N swung her legs back and forth as she stared up at the artificial sky. She glanced down, staring as Glimmer cuddled into Cato’s side. He allowed her.

Y/N felt another strong pang in her chest as she absentmindedly played with a knife she found in her bag. She couldn’t sleep. The adrenaline and envy was keeping her awake.

“Are you ever going to come down?” Cato questioned. He slipped out of Glimmer’s arms and walked to stand underneath Y/N.

“I will.” She muttered, “Soon.” She wanted Cato to stay, but he simply shrugged.

“Alright. Don’t fall out of the tree.” He returned to his former sleeping spot, but kept his distance from Glimmer.

“Night, Y/N.” She heard him say.

“Night, Cato.”

__

It was another successful day for the Career pack. All of them, save for Peeta, were celebrating their latest kill. They walked out of the thick greenery, almost skipping with joy.

“Hey, look!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing at Katniss. She was wading in the shallow water of a river to relive the burn in her leg. As soon as she saw the Careers, her eyes widened and she bolted.

“Fish out of the pond!” Marvel yelled as they chased after her.

“She’s mine!” Glimmer playfully shouted.

Cato was at the front of the pack, Y/N not too far behind.

“Where you going, baby?!” Cato exclaimed, “There’s nowhere to run!”

Katniss resorted to climbing up a tall tree. She panted as she reached a high branch, looking down at the deadly pack.

“Get her, Cato!” Glimmer encouraged the blond as he began to scale up the trunk, jaw tightly clenched. However, he grabbed onto a frail stick and fell. He landed with a loud thud.

“Fine! I’ll shoot her!” But Glimmer overestimated her aim. She missed Katniss by a long shot. Cato angrily motioned for Glimmer to hand the bow and arrow over, trying for himself. He was just as bad.

“Maybe you should throw the sword.” Katniss sarcastically suggested.

“Or maybe you all should move aside and leave her to the one that can climb.” Y/N piped up, her arms folded over her chest.

The pack stepped aside, allowing Y/N to pass through. She held a dagger in between her teeth as she climbed the tree with surprising speed. Katniss scrambled away as Y/N stepped onto her branch.

“Hello again, girl on fire.”

Katniss pulled out a curved dagger, holding it in front of her. In such close range, her bow and arrows would be futile.

“You’re going to pay for ruining my face.” Y/N launched at Katniss, grabbing her by the shirt and throwing her back. Katniss hit the tree trunk and let out a strained wheeze. The Careers below cheered at Y/N stabbed the ravenette’s shoulder and kicked her burn so hard that Katniss screamed.

Katniss was skilled, but she was no match for Y/N, who was trained for this moment. Katniss heard a faint buzzing above her and she looked up to see some kind of wasp nest.

__

“Oooh, tracker jackers. If Katniss manages to knock it over, Y/N will be in a very dangerous position.” Claudius uttered to Caesar. The blue-haired man nodded in agreement.

“For those of you who don’t know,” Caesar said, “Tracker jackers are genetically engineered wasps. Their lethal stings can cause powerful hallucinations and, in some serious cases, death.”

__

Katniss clumsily jumped and sliced the nest off the tree. The tracker jackers emerged, buzzing around the two females. The Careers below were also affected.

Y/N fell out of the tree, screaming as she tried to swipe the wasps away. The pain was blinding her sense of sight as she scrambled to her feet.

“Y/N!” She faintly heard Cato yelling. Once Cato and Marvel realised neither of their District partners were behind them, the blond immediately ran back.

Glimmer and Y/N were both being attacked, trying desperately to run away from the wasps.

If Cato could save both of them, he would’ve. But time was running low and he had to choose. He chose Y/N without hesitation, leaving Glimmer behind to die.

“Shit! Y/N, come on. Wake up. Don’t leave me. Y/N!” Cato lay her on the ground and shook her shoulders, begging her to open her eyes.

“Cato?” She whispered, her cracked and bloody lips slightly parted.

“Yes. Yes. It’s me. It’s Cato.” He grabbed her face so Y/N could clearly see him.

“Why is Clove with you? She’s not meant to be here.” Y/N muttered, furrowing her eyebrows. “Clove, why are you here?”

“Y/N, Clove isn’t here.” Cato said, “But I am. Can you walk?” Y/N tried to stand up but she fell back down. Cato cushioned her fall.

“It hurts.” She whispered, lightly tugging his shirt.

“I know.” Cato gently uttered, stroking her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have let you go up there. I’m so sorry.” For a moment, Cato showed his vulnerability to the multiple cameras surrounding him. “You’re going to be okay, though. Just take it nice and slow.”

With Cato’s help, Y/N was able to stand up. She groaned, leaning against him.

“I’m going to kill her.” She muttered, referring to Katniss. She had gotten away from Y/N two times. It wouldn’t happen a third.

“You’ll get your chance. For now, relax.” Cato kissed the top of Y/N’s head, too distracted by her to notice the sponsor parachute. The small container hit him in the face and he clenched his jaw.

He opened the compartment, briefly reading the small note inside.

Nice romance, kids. Apply this to Y/N’s injuries. - E

Cato screwed open a round container, looking inside in confusion. “It’s, uh, melted oatmeal?”

“It’s ointment, you nitwit!” Y/N snapped, “For the stings!”

“Damn, the stings made her cranky. Here, let me help you.” Cato applied the ointment and Y/N sighed in relief as they finally stopped hurting.

“Thanks, Cato.” Y/N murmured, leaning against him.

“Any time, Y/N.”

[ambrosykim]

so ur telling me that blackwall sleeps w the inquisitor under false pretenses and then just leaves them without a word. and people hate solas?????

[kon-igi]

LA FESTA DEL PAPÀ È DIVISIVA

Ma oramai non credo che esistano argomenti di condivisione comune sui quali poter fare affermazioni nette e aspettarsi che tutti siano d'accordo.

Il cielo è blu? Ma va'... il cielo è celeste! No, guarda che è nero ed è un fenomeno di rifrazione dei raggi solari sull'atmosfera. Ti sbagli, è giallo! Sì, però togliti quel sacchetto dell'Esselunga dalla testa. Basta! Il cielo è marrone con radici che penzolano. Zitto tu che sei morto!

La scelta del giorno della festa del papà, poi, coincide con quel santo del calendario che credo abbia avuto il peggiore martirio fra tutti, cornuto, mazziato e ringrazia pure. Cioè, come papà sfigato il primo posto se lo prende di sicuro Darth Vader ma perlomeno aveva una spada laser e il suo arco di redenzione è stato più appassionante.

Insomma, la festa del papà è divisiva per due ragioni, una sociale e l'altra personale.

Da una parte, è una ghiotta occasione perché alcuni frignino che non esistono più i papà di una volta, tutti pipa e cinghiate, e che anzi, se andiamo avanti così non esisterano più nemmeno gli uomini, dall'altra è che al netto di tutto, i padri molte volte più che festeggiati spesso vanno perdonati.

Adesso come adesso, i papà sul mercato sono figli o nipoti del patriarcato, nel senso che difficilmente non avranno assorbito per osmosi familiare e sociale l'idea di quello che deve essere il ruolo di un genitore maschio all'interno della famiglia.

In sintesi il pater familias.

[maledetto genitivo ellenico ma sono cose mie]

Quando io e la mia compagna dobbiamo fare cose importanti che implichini decisioni tecniche, burocratiche, meccaniche, matematiche o notarili, il mio gesto preferito è questo

perché tutte le volte il venditore di auto parla rivolgendosi a me che distinguo le macchine solo per il colore, l'avvocato quando io risolverei tutto con il trial by combat e la commercialista dove io opterei per il baratto.

Io sarei il pater familias, quindi automaticamente il detentore delle decisioni familiari e è invece è la mia compagna quella che prende le migliori, senza spargimenti di sangue o una pila di conchiglie che l'enel non accetta come forma di pagamento.

Sì, vabbè... non sa accendere la motosega o da che parte si impugna un coltello da lanciare e se proprio dobbiamo dirla tutta non riesce neanche ad accendere il fuoco nel camino (cosa che le rimprovero sempre ricordandole che erano le vestali ad accudire il Fuoco Sacro del focolare domestico). Poi però c'è quell'altra che disegna tubi e motori idraulici usando termini strani tipo 'valvola di massima' o 'dislocamento positivo' e quell'altra ancora che snocciola a memoria le caratteristiche di ogni macchina o moto e parla per due ore di maderizzazione e di vendemmia in neve carbonica.

Questo per dire che i ruoli sono solo ruoli ed è solo questione di abitudine... le abitudini cambiano e ci si abitua al nuovo.

Quindi buona festa a quella persona alla quale dovrebbe essere solo chiesto, dopo la fornitura di migliaia di gameti scodinzolanti, di amare in modo vasto e profondo chi non ha mai chiesto di essere portato su questa spaventosa e bella terra, ricordando che amore non è mai possesso, conferma od orgoglio.

L'amore per i propri figli è essere partecipe della gioia che abbiamo insegnato loro a conquistarsi da soli.

E per concludere, si può essere padre amorevole pure senza aver mai partecipato con un singolo spermatozoo.

[piracytheorist]

remember when we couldn't reply to tumblr posts unless the op ended the post with a question mark, thus turning the post into a question post, which people could then answer?

[castorfell]

Familiar Stranger 💜🪩

Glitter's hard to get rid of, especially once it sticks to something.

-

Fanfic about Guy Diamond and this random no name background troll he interacted with for a nett total of like 8 seconds. His name is Tyler now.

Guy might be a bit OOC I don't even know anymore man my view of him has probably been warped beyond recognition

~

It was another party night in Troll Village. Nothing paticularly special was being celebrated, but trolls never needed a reason to party.

Their small part of the forest was alive with lights, music and glitter. Sweet acoustics reverberated throughout the village square. A troupe of glitter trolls hung by their hair above them all, the light from colourful strobebugs reflecting off of their sparkly skin and creating a glamorous light show for the partygoers below them.

Guy Diamond was not apart of said troupe this time. Instead, he danced amongst the crowd of trolls on the ground. He moved his body to the beat as if it was the only thing he knew how to do; energetic, passionate, dynamic, beautiful.

The silver glitter troll didn't have a specific partner to dance with, he never did, but everyone who knew him knew that he was open to dancing with anyone. Different trolls would get close to him as they grooved at different times and Guy, always a sucker for attention, matched their rhythm and moved along with them until they eventually drifted off.

Everyone got to dance with Guy Diamond, and Guy Diamond got to dance with everyone.

The glitter troll was moving his body to the beat when he felt another troll brush up against him. This troll, however, felt different from all the other trolls Guy had danced with that night. A thrill ran up his spine. He could never put it into words, but Guy knew. He would always know that strange, special feeling.

Turning to face his latest dance partner, Guy's eyes lit up at the sight of a yellow troll with purple hair wearing a pair of dark lavender pants. The wishstone in his belly shone under the party lights.

Tyler met his gaze and suddenly it was as if they were the only trolls dancing. The air about them felt charged as they danced close to each other, closer than any other troll both of them had danced with that night. Or any other night for that matter. They were so close to each other that the very ends of their hair would occassionaly brush together. It was intense. It was thrilling. It was electrifying.

They danced together for a while, so long in fact that the two trolls felt the slightest bit tired and just a little parched. Tyler felt a hip bump against him. He paused in his groove for a moment as he felt a hand in his own, it's glittery texture warm and familiar. Guy Diamond pulled him from the crowd of dancing trolls to a nearby juice bar. They sat on the mushroom seats as a juice maker troll served them their drinks.

They sat in comfortable silence as the party raved on around them. Tyler turned to look at Guy, admiring the way the other troll looked. Every once in a while a beam of light from up above washed over them, briefly illuminating the glitter troll as it caught on him and made his skin sparkle enchantingly.

"So," Tyler started casually. "Where ya from?"

Guy put his head in one hand as the other held his cup of cloudberry juice, eyes half lidded as he leaned towards the yellow troll slightly. "Haven't we met before?"

What a funny question. A loaded one, too. They've met plenty of times before. Tyler knew this. Guy Diamond knew this.

It was all apart of their strange little game. A game only they knew how to play.

"I think I would've remembered a face like yours," Tyler smirked, turning away to bring his cup of dewberry juice to his lips. He took a long, slow sip before setting the drink down and licking his lips.

Guy's eyes glinted as he watched, eyebrows hiking up the slightest bit as he tilted his head into his hand slightly.

"Never even heard of me?" Guy questioned innocently.

"Not a peep."

Everyone's heard of Guy Diamond. There wasn't a troll in the village who didn't at least know his name. Guy made sure of it, vain as he was.

"You're adorable," Guy laughed before leaning over, placing a hand on the yellow troll's knee to support himself as he planted a kiss on Tyler's cheek. "We should sing together sometime."

And with that, the glitter troll got up and made his way to throw himself back onto the dance floor. Tyler watched him go with wide eyes and a red face, staring as Guy dissappeared into the crowd of partygoers until he could barely see the tips of his sparkly white hair. He felt a smile growing, could feel how goofy he must have looked right then.

Tyler didn't realize how long he had been sitting at the juice bar until the juice maker troll from earlier snapped her fingers in his face. Startled out of his trance, Tyler turned to face her.

"Hey, you've got a little..." she trailed off, gesturing at her own cheek before pointing at him somewhat vaguely.

The yellow troll stared at her for a moment, not understanding what she was getting at. "Huh?"

The juice maker made a face as the moment grew awkward. Her eyes glanced around briefly before settling on the empty cup of cloudberry juice Guy Diamond had left behind. She grabbed it and held it up to Tyler's face.

As his slightly warped reflection stared dumbly back at him from the surface of the glass cup, Tyler realized what she had been referring to. On the cheek where Guy had kissed was a smear of glitter. It clung onto his fuzzy skin, having not yet dissolved into the air as most organic glitter cells did. It was rather faint, a small smudge of silver fractals against his yellow flocked fur, but it sparkled just as bright as the one who left it there when the light hit it just right.

"Oh!" the yellow troll laughed, bringing a hand up to his cheek to touch at the smear. It came back slightly sparkly. He turned back towards the crowd of trolls dancing, only needing to glance around for a moment before his eyes, almost naturally, found an all too familiar sparkle of glitter.

Guy Diamond danced, the lights of the party reflecting off of his glitter in mesmerizing patterns as he moved about. He danced as if it was the only thing he knew how to do; energetic, passionate, dynamic, beautiful.

The silver troll found his gaze and they briefly locked eyes from across the village square. Guy smiled and winked at him.

Tyler slammed down the last drops of his juice before excitedly running back into the crowd. He couldn't wait to get to know this mysterious, familiar troll.

[xinfinityl0ve17]

"No one can dispute the beautifully androgynous Mana's strong influence on Lolita fashion from the very beginning, partially evidenced by the fact that a photo shoot with the musician and designer has been in every issue of Gothic & Lolita Bible since the first.

Many became familiar with Mana, who created both the terms Elegant Gothic Lolita (EGA) and Elegant Gothic Lolita (EGL), when he was creating memorably flam Boyant costumes for his Gothic band MM, dressing himselt in Gothic Lolita and the other members in Aristocratic styles for their extravagant music videos and artistically inspired performance.

Since the music group's disbandment in 2001, Mana has remained focused on both music and fashion. He runs his own record label, Midi Nette, performs with his current band, Moi dix Mois, and acts as both designer and model for his clothing line, Moi-même-Moitié

We were pleased when this multitalented Lolita icon agreed to take time from his busy creative schedule to answer questions about his past, present, and future projects for our Western readers."

[starwarsmum]

Day 10 for Maribat BioFamily September y'all! And today it's: We're Hiring

@maribat-calendar-events

“I just can't move here full time, even if I wanted to,” Marinette protested, head buried in her arms. Summer was nearly over and everyone was trying to convince her to stay in Gotham for the whole year. As much as she loved spending time with them, she missed her parents and friends in France. 

“I'm just saying that if you wanted to work with Wayne Fashion, we would absolutely hire you now,” Tim said slyly, working on his laptop at the dining table. Marinette looked up and glared at him, but he merely shrugged. “It wouldn't be a full-time gig or anything, and you'd probably have to go to school with Damian, but you'd be working for a major name in fashion.”

“Please, I've had offers from the style queen and Gabriel - pre-takedown, obviously - and Jagged Stone endorses me. I don't need your nepotism, thank you very much. Also, stop trying to think up things to tempt me! I doubt Damian would like you using him like that.”

Tim pulled a face at her but didn't say anything. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tim started up again. “Look, I'm not saying you have to live in Gotham if you don't want to. But I am willing to make a genuine offer to partner with you. I've been looking to hire MDC for ages, so it isn't technically nepotism.”

“...I'm not sure how to feel about it being ‘technically not nepotism’,” Marinette said drily, doodling designs into a sketchbook idly. “Besides, I like being commission based, I get to turn down anyone I don't want to work with. And I get to work with a greater variety of people. But maybe I could work out a couple of pieces for you.”

“Seriously?” Tim jerked his gaze away from his work and looked at her excitedly. “No, wait, seriously, you would? Because I really want an MDC original, and if you would let me commission you, it would make my year.”

Marinette laughed and promised to sit down with him that evening and get a design or two under way.

_ _ _

While Tim was waiting for Marinette that evening, he had brought up a bunch of saved images of different clothes he liked the styles of. He also, at Marinette's command, grabbed a range of his most comfortable clothes, although she hadn't said why. 

“Sorry, I lost track of time,” Marinette chirped as she burst into the room. She had told him that morning that she was planning to walk Titus with the demon brat that afternoon and apparently she had only just returned because she was flushed and slightly out of breath. Even her hair, usually in neat bunches, was loose and slightly mussed as though wind had been running through it. 

“No problem,” Tim replied easily, sitting forward in his chair eagerly. As he launched into an explanation of what he wanted for the first commission, his sister nodded along, making notes in her sketchbook and asking seemingly random questions. 

An hour later, she finished asking him questions and he had exhausted every possible description of what he wanted, she sketched out several designs. One in particular stood out to him, a casually scruffy suit jacket. She explained that it would look worn but be impeccably stitched so that it wouldn't be worn out easily. 

“Just based on what you were saying about wanting to mess with your board of directors,” she added, highlighting various additional aspects. “Obviously I'll make it out of easily washable fabric, in case you spill coffee on it. And it'll be durable, because I know you like to skate around the halls of Wayne Enterprises.”

“It's perfect, Nette,” Tim breathed, grinning widely at her. She looked pleased with herself, jotting down last minute notes before they discussed pricing and timescales. Then she started the process all over again to design clothes for non-business use.

It was nearly midnight by the time they finished and Tim called an end to their chat. When he stood up and stretched, he could see that she was still pondering the sketchbook, muttering and making notes of her own that he couldn't decipher.

“You should get some sleep, Nette,” he said, dragging her out of her own thoughts and offering a hand up. She jumped as though startled and gave him a sheepish grimace. “Lord knows I'm going to bed.”

“Mmm, I'm just going to check in with Jay, make sure he doesn't want to do some baking and then I'll head to bed too,” she said with a more genuine smile. “Besides, once the ideas get going I find it hard to just sleep, you know?”

Tim agreed that he did indeed know, walking her towards the kitchen. They said goodnight and Tim went to bed feeling like he'd won the lottery - by the end of the year, he would finally have a commissioned MDC original.

[hcnnibal]

Hi! I absolutely love your work! I reblog you on my Hannibal blog @hungryhungryhannibalhimbo all the time and fell into the Hannibal fan to A1 and A2 fan pipeline very quickly after following you. I had a couple questions:

1.) What is your drawing process like? I’ve gotten more into portraiture lately and want to get better at drawing things for the fandoms I’m in. You’re work is really incredible so I figured you may have some tips that could carry over.

2.) You mentioned using face models for A1 and A2 and I was wondering what resources you would recommend for that sort of thing.

3.) How long do you anticipate their story to be? Obviously we’re at the very beginning (and it’s rlly rlly good) but I guess I’m wondering how complex the plot will get.

4.) How much of the story will center around their dynamic with each other as opposed to all the things they’re caught up in and the rest of the cast?

P.S. Every time I see them, I think of A1 Steak Sauce and imagine them using it at a dinner date in a steak house somewhere….possibly on a steak out?? Sincerest apologies for the absurdity of my ramblings. Have a nice day!

hi! thanks for the ask, ill try my best to answer all of this!

1. half of my drawing process is looking for references. like i thumbnail a composition and hunt for like. all the individual components. head so empty, need reference. the drawing is the easy part, i dont really have a sketch layer, i just kinda go for it on 200 different layers and resize, rotate, etc etc until it looks okay and then i slap some color on dbcbnc thats it

2. i like movies and tv shows for refs! ppl always look best in motion i think. i also take alot of my own references! especially for like hands and stuff

3. i do kinda see their story taking a couple years to finish. i have all of volume 1 planned out and im hoping to get that done this year! i have alot of material written for them and its kinda just a matter of… making it all make sense in one story ahahha

4. the story is mostly going to be driven by their relationship and im hoping to have the different “episodes” center around their jobs. most of the rest of the cast are part of a different story even though they’re in the same verse! there’s some overlap in some in universe stuff but their stories are totally different. tan, nette, and riley are having their own little found family, coming of age thing and the angels are more of a. soap opera w killing on the side thing.

i will let them go on a steak dinner date one day, i swearrrrr